To Wait, Perchance to Know
by eCkeCk546
Summary: To wait, to know, perchance to dream? A shout, a whimper, a fullblown scream? The life of Takeru Takaishi, from his own skewed perspective. Takari, Daisuke x ? , Taito. abuse, violence, sex, and everything in between.
1. Yamato

**I've been writing a bunch of romantic little stories here and there, and I decided that I wanted to write something dark. Really dark. So, instead of being the one-shot I intended it to be, this will be a long and developed story, revolving around our favorite Takeru. It's gonna be dark and deep, so for the squeamish, I don't think this is the story for you. But if you want to flame me, go ahead! Reviews would be nice. Really nice! So, here's the first chapter of a series… Anyways, I don't own Digimon. Some guys in suits do. And I'm in love with season 4! No joke! It's really good. Being a weenie digimon otaku, I'm watching the Japanese version with the subtitles… So… Hope you enjoy this one! Feed me feedback, kudasai!

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**_To Wait, Perchance to Know._**

_Yamato._

Waiting. It's just something I know how to do too well. I don't have a problem with waiting. I've been waiting all my life. All I do is wait. I wait, while life takes its time. It's ironic, I know. No worries. I'm used to it. I remember when I would wait for hours after school. I would wait for Yamato to pick me up. I would wait there all alone, sitting on that bench, watching the many whirlwinds kick up playground dust and advance towards me, creating a personal hell for me. I still don't have a problem with waiting. All my friends would be gone. My so-called friends, to say the very least. Even the teachers. They waited with me long enough, of course, out of degrading, self-loathing pity. They knew it was a waste of time. They had families to go home to, or mistresses to visit, or AA meetings to skip out on. I wouldn't mind waiting. It's not like I hate my family, but back then. I didn't like it one bit. Mom would be at work. Dad would be at work. If they were together, all hell would break loose. So many broken vases and windows. So many broken hearts. I wouldn't mind waiting.

Yamato would take forever. It's not like I wanted him to pick me up early anyways. It's not like I wanted him to pick me up at all. Uggh. I always hated when I could hear the screeching tires of his rice rocket, well out of her prime. The smell of unleaded fuel leaking didn't nauseate me as much as the smell of his car inside. It was like walking into dank cave soaked with reefer and semen. His body odor was no better. He would greet me, his bedraggled blonde hair would glisten in the sunlight, oils which uncovered days of not washing, wearing the same black shirt, disgustingly dirty jeans and old chucks, cigarette to his mouth, and shades to his bloodshot eyes, with some false excuse for being late, and when he knew that it wasn't credible, he rebutted with some wild allegation.

"I'm sorry I was late. I had a gig, and then a flat tire. What? You don't believe me? Why don't you get a job so you can take the bus so you could go home whenever you want?" So many holes in your story, oniisan. That guitar case in the backseat? I believe you can't play shitty 80's acoustic ballads with about 10 kilos of crack. Besides, it doesn't help your case when there are about 6 used rubbers on your passenger's seat. By the way, thanks for making me sit on them. You probably got a sick kick out of that. Enough said. I don't know why I climbed in. I didn't want to go home, and sure as hell didn't want to go in that piece of shit. So much wasted money was invested into that thing. It's no wonder Yamato got locked up for as long as he did. I mean, he will be. It'll be a few years. That sucks.

I remember all too well that day he left. Yes, it was April 19th, 15:38, back when I was in 7th grade and I was in the apartment as 8 pigeons flew by the window, against those stubborn easterlies. That's not the point. I was watching one of those stupid shows featuring some dopey kids who don't give a damn and their pet monster things. Whatever. My imagination wasn't one to stretch. Anyways, good ol' Yamato just stumbled into the apartment, reeking of his usual malicious breath, and words to match.

"Takeru… What the fuck! Why isn't this fuckin' place clean? You fuckin' ungrateful…" And so on. Then after verbally beating me, he goes on and hits me. I don't feel it. All I see are the harsh bruises they form, and I sigh. After he's satisfied, he goes in to his room. His anything-but-docile domicile, where he plays his usual hyphy-hits. I don't know… I guess I'm in the alliterative mood, today. So, he cranks his music to match his mood, and all of a sudden, there was a thunderous knocking at the door. If it was somewhat urgent, or something. So, little innocent I, in my comfy grey sweats and dingy green tee, went to the door to answer this caller. This gentleman caller.

"Hi… Taichi Yagami, right?" I never cared for Yamato's friends. They would be almost as bad as him. This one, though… I'm assuming he was in the same junior class as Yamato. In fact, I'm even surprised that Yamato made it to high school in the first place. Anyways, this Taichi guy was in some white long sleeved dress shirt, with the sleeves rolled up like some wannabe transient ruffian, or whatnot, and some tattered black dickies, and black shades that can be found at any classy gas station. His shoes… I'm thinking they were some fancy addidas. And his brunette hair is just plain gravity-defying. I don't know if I should trust this fool.

"Yah… Is your brother home?" And he was, so I pointed towards his room. He never liked it when I knocked at the door, let alone, barge in and tell him he's expecting company. So, as he proceeded to Yamato's room, I stopped him in his tracks with a question. I thought I would never do that, because I feared death. And by the look of this guy, he wouldn't think twice about killing me for asking such a question.

"What are you going to buy from my brother today?" He looked at me as if I was the most naïve 7th grader in the world. He didn't hesitate to answer.

"What are you talking about? I'm just here to see your brother… that's all." I didn't like this guy, so I awkwardly ended this exchange by letting him enter so casually, and I slammed the door behind him. And I, of course, went back to the comfort of my couch, and waited for time to pass. Maybe he thought I wasn't clever.

I'm watching this show, and all of a sudden, there's a scene where this dopey blond-headed kid, who's an annoying brat, by the way, is crying over something more obscure than the cliché of spilled milk. Then, here comes his stubborn, lone wolf of a brother, who, after being suspected as coldhearted and soulless, finally shows a warm side to his brother. Man, I wish I had that. All I have is Yamato.

From his room, all I could hear was the irritating thumping of the bed against the wall. Like clockwork, it would start off slow, and the moaning would get more frequent and louder and louder, until the proverbial climax, a resolution I don't even want to know about. This is one story I'm going to end right now. I didn't know if it was the years of physical abuse, or even more so, all the mental anguish, but on that warm April day, with all the birds singing and flowers blooming, and life is reborn anew, I died.

I did not want to shame my broken family even more so from the comfort of home, so I took Yamato's car keys from the kitchen counter and I sauntered and skipped my way to the payphone across the street from the apartment, still in my sweats and dingy green tee, but now with my trusty pair of flip-flops. I made it in record timing, so I inserted what little change I had in my pocket, and dialed the ill-fated number without any reservation whatsoever.

That incessant ringing was my last warning from fate to end this malicious plan of mine. But, I swear to this very day that fate was on my side, rooting me on to play the devil's advocate. Enter Takeru, the actor. My dearest grandmother, God rest her soul, will inspire today's performance, whose faint voice and bigot attitude are no stranger to this stage.

"Hi… Police? Hi… I'm having a party and my neighbor down the hall wouldn't move his car for my girlfriends. They had to park so far to get here. Nearly broke their backs, they did. And when I asked him nicely to park it somewhere else just for a while, he told me to, and I quote… 'go fuck myself.' Yah… I know. Kids these days… It's a shame. So I was wondering if you have the time, if you could come over right away. Maybe you guys can make him move his car? Or maybe you should move it for him? I'm sure he wouldn't mind. He's being awfully loud in his apartment. What number? Apartment #302… Yes… across the Odaiba Park thoroughfare. The car? Well, it's a dirty looking rice rocket, to be honest. I don't think you could miss it. Back in my day, we would wash our cars and treat our elders with respect. You ought to teach that Yamato Ishida boy a lesson… Ok… Thank you, officer. Bye."

Not clever, my ass. Now the plot thickens. I went over to dear Yama's car and sure enough, his guitar case was there. So, being the concerned citizen that I was, I took out some handy dandy gloves and proceeded to work. I opened the door to his car and unfastened the latches to his guitar case, leaving all the snort and angel dust out in the open, visible to a passerby, someone curious, like a police officer making a routine traffic check. So, I went back to the apartment, intentionally leaving the door unlocked, and waited for fate to make its next move.

Fate couldn't have made it more comical or dramatic. No less than 5 minutes passed, and there were the cops. I got some popcorn, fresh from the microwave, and started to watch the commotion across the street, sitting on the comfy recliner that was in front of the window. I guess my dad had the same idea in mind when he oddly placed it here.

No more than 7 minutes passed, and there was a knock at the door.

"Excuse me, little boy…" That didn't go as well as I wanted it to. But, whatever. I'll still get my kicks and giggles out of this.

"What seems to be the problem, officer?"

"We got a domestic disturbance call from a concerned resident…" Wow. Those police really know how to exaggerate. Great on my benefit. "Is Yamato Ishida home?" And like any of Yamato's guests, I pointed to his room. Just as he was about to make his trek, two comrades of his came to him, drawing attention to all the drugs they found in his car. So, they ran to his room. And they barged in. Without a knock, without any forewarning. I'm glad they did.

When they stumbled in, they found my Yama. My Yama and Taichi. Together. Yamato, then and there, was arrested. As he walked out of the room, with only a pair of tighty-whities on, I could see what years of substance abuse did on his body. He seemed disheveled. An aching boy trying to search for peace in all the wrong directions. I guess that's what we have in common. I guess that's what links us as brothers. We're always on that long journey, searching, waiting, hoping to know. Too bad we couldn't have done it together. The last thing he said to me was… nothing. His eyes, however, told a different story. He gave me a look of hate. A look of utter disdain and almost malicious intent. But his lips. They seemed to have uttered the words…

"Thank you…"

To get caught as a drug dealer and a whore on the same bust? His court hearing was 2 weeks later. I wanted to go, but I had school. At least, that's what I kept saying. A part of me hated him to the core. For every birthday party of mine he didn't go to, for every punch that struck my face, and for every minute he made me wait on that cold, lonely playground. I'm sure he wouldn't have missed me. My parents didn't go. They didn't want to go. They couldn't stand hearing a judgment that rated their parenting abilities. My auntie was the only one who went to his hearing. She said the courtroom was literally empty. There was only herself, and this boy. A friend of Yamato's, she said.

She told me that the police were looking for him for over a year. He was Odaiba's most notorious drug dealer. What can you do? Wait until he comes back? Wait until he changes? Wait until he's dust?

I wouldn't mind waiting.

But I hate waiting here. Why do I have to wait here? It's cold. Cold, dark and dirty. Someone should really clean this place. Especially that stupid mark. Looks like a snail. I wish it looked more interesting…

I wish I were more interesting.

Interesting, like him.

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**The end. For now, at least. Hope you like it! Happy reading!**

**ek**


	2. Daisuke

**So, here's Chapter 2. I'm quite proud of this chapter, but that's up to you guys. Do you think it's good? I want to know. So review me, or flame me! And so, I must warn you that i don't own Digimon, and i'm totally in love with season4, and is it wrong that it made me shed a little tear at the end? Move over, season 3! You're my least favorite, now! That's not saying much, cuz i love digimon! Anyways, it gets sorta yaoi-ish in this chapter. So... don't read it if your sorta squeamish. On to the story! Don't forget to review and evaluate me! Boku wa daisuki na "reviews" desu ne! **

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**_To Wait, Perchance to Know._**

_Daisuke._

Waiting. All my life, I've been waiting. For what, you ask? I don't know. Honestly, I don't know what I've been waiting for. 'There's always a reason for some action, as there is a problem to every solution,' I've always said. I've always been keen on these self-imposed mantras that boost my self-confidence. That's what got me through those long days, healing my wounds on the cold linoleum of the bathroom floor.

'Cuts always heal, but bruises last forever.' True. All my cuts are gone, but whenever I would take my hand to my fragile arm, the pain resonates through the flesh, to the bone. That punch to the chest. Everyday, I feel it. Every night, I dream about it. It's always the same dream. I hope to fill in the blanks that reality has provided with some obscure actions, thus creating a bizarre fantasy, just like the mad libs of my tarnished youth, but that's not the case. It's always the same dream. I wish I could call it a nightmare. But I can't. There's something about it. I can't.

I remember that day all too well. How can I not? It was the first day of sophomore year in my new high school. Not too long ago. It's only been a year. Night after night, the details get more warped, of course, against my favor. But I do know that I just moved with my mom to an apartment to another facet of Tokyo. My parents got divorced last summer. They just couldn't hold it together.

I woke up, and it was raining. A heavy rain, expected to last throughout the day, said the weatherman. I always dreaded hearing his voice while I ate my typical bowl of cheerios. It would be that, or the thunderous crackling of my mom, disciplining her insubordinate subordinates over the phone. But, I would drown both of them out with the gulping of the cereal-encrusted milk, which was part of an incomplete breakfast. I felt pretty fly, in my green blazer and white long-sleeved shirt, not tucked in, of course, and my good ol' green dunks and my matching gray slacks. I was out the door, backpack slung over my shoulders, when my mom gave her kiss and her general greeting of concern half-assed.

I slammed the door behind me pretty hard. I had to make sure I was still alive, living a nightmare. It didn't matter anymore. I would have preferred to not exist at all. So, I stumbled down the stairs, hoping for that proverbial banana peel. That would be a pretty shitty way to die, ne? I rather die with honor. Something I know I don't have. Well, I made it safely down the stairs, and the rain got heavier. Heavy, like my heart.

I wasn't ready to conquer the world. But I had to. I had to, alone. Don't get me wrong, though. I like being alone. That's the only time I could be myself. Whenever I'm with my mom, I would have to be the rock. I would have to be strong for her. She relied on me to get through the rough times. Through the mental abuse of my dad, the physical torture of her work, and all the shit Yamato pulled. I realized that I was still standing at the door, hoping for something. I realized that my spirit was fragile and unwilling. My body was weak and feeble. My heart, nonexistent. I realized I was hoping for relief. I realized I was waiting for my day. The day I could be free. I realized I was waiting for nothing.

I realized I was late. I always knew time never liked me. So, I ran, and ran, and ran. I don't know why, though. It's not like I wanted to go to school. But, where else would I go? Home? I didn't feel like stepping on the shards of a broken life. I might as well go to school. But, one thing I can't stand is unpunctuality, on my part. So, I made it between the creaking gates of the school. The eerie ebony bars that would be suited more for cattle. These bars that both San Quentin and Sing-Sing would envy evoked a feeling of safety. The same safety that I felt being with my father. My father, with his fists.

I ran through the desolated field. I ran across the dark, soaking asphalt. I ran across the empty hallway. Cold. So cold. And then, it happened. I stumbled. I fell from grace, into the arms of my cold fate. I slipped. On a piece of something. I hope it wasn't a banana peel. And all I could hear was the haunting laughter of him, who seemed to appear out of nowhere.

There were just two of them. They looked the same to me. Green blazers, gray trousers, white shirts. One had steel-shaded hair with eyes to match. His pale skin and his spiteful grin with his cherubic looks made him seem like a fallen angel.

No. He was the grim specter of death, ready to take a swing with his scythe, stained with the blood of his countless victims and my fallen comrades. From the minute I saw him, I knew. My demise, Takeshi Kobayashi. And next to him, there was Daisuke Motomiya, a refreshing undertone of light to his compatriot's darkness. His bronze skin, kissed by the sun's refined rays. His burgundy hair, and those eyes, that pierce my memory. His eyes, full of grace. Please, watch over me now, and at the hour of my death.

"Well… What do we have here? Man, this fag. Look, Dai… A fresh fag, on his knees!" My Takeshi spoke. His footsteps, a sound all too familiar, grew stronger and stronger. I wish I could have shut down, at that moment. I knew what was coming, though. A part of me yearned for it. It brought about a sense of comfort. A part of me died. A part of me did nothing. I began to sob, uncontrollably, and my head was hung down in perpetual shame. I was just there, hoping, or ever perhaps waiting, for my guardian angel to come, and save me.

"Aww… Is the baby fag fuckin' crying? Well, what the fuck are you crying for, fag?" Takeshi uttered in a false sense of compassion. Daisuke did nothing.

"Maybe the fag is crying for a reason… Maybe he wants something… What do you think, Dai?" Again, Daisuke said nothing. My Daisuke said nothing. My knees began to tremble, as his weight pushed against me. Then, Daisuke, with such benevolent force, held me, as Takeshi began rolling with punches and kicks I couldn't feel. I didn't know how to feel them anymore.

"Come on, Dai! I know this fag wants it bad!" Takeshi barked. And my Daisuke reluctantly followed. They dragged me to the nearby boys' bathroom, and he continued with his futile kicks and punches. One to the back of the head. One to the arm. One to what little self-assurance I had left in me. Takeshi pushed me to the wall, and kicked me, and I stumbled to the ground in bearable pain.

Now I was on my knees. I couldn't see anymore, for the swelling of my eyes was too much. With blood and tears, I wept. While I was down, I could see Daisuke's suede shoes, as he picked me up again. For one moment, I was at peace, in his arms. Only to be pushed against the wall, and he punched me. He punched me in the face. In the arm. In the chest. That was the first punch I felt in a long time. It was the last punch that I would never forget.

After his horrendous scourging, the comfort of silence sank through my bones. But the aching was far from over. They began to observe what they did to me from across the bathroom, like how an artist eyes the glory of the masterpiece he created. Then, they headed towards me. Those eyes, Takeshi's eyes, drunk with perverted lust. He pulled out his switchblade from his pocket. And followed suit with his threat. Thinking back, I found it odd that I feared the switchblade at that moment, when I've always embraced it, with open arms. Maybe I wanted that. I didn't know then, and I still don't know now.

"Do I have to use this, or are you going to be a good little boy?" Takeshi roared, again in a fictitious, comforting tone, unlike Daisuke. His eyes. His eyes were not like that at all. I couldn't utter words, if I wanted to. My bleeding jaws were wired shut by the kicks and punches. Then, they both grew closer. And closer.

Daisuke was the one picked me up from the ground once again, the one who unbuckled my belt, and the one who pulled my pants and boxers to my ankles. Takeshi was the one who shoved me back, causing me to fall for the umpteenth time. And right then and there, on that cold, rainy, autumn day in September, as the oak leaves fell on the soaked, dark asphalt, and the birds chirped with glee outside the window in gratitude, as the sun peaked through the clouds and shined light through that greasy bathroom window, Takeshi Kobayashi, with such bestial, malicious intent, raped me. Daisuke Motomiya… had his way with me. That day, no one heard me shout. That day, no one noticed me shouting for attention, or pleading for help. That day, no one heard Takeshi's blatantly profane catcalls. That day, no one heard Daisuke's silence.

It seemed like forever. After they were done with me, like the piece of rubbish that I was, they pulled up their pants and buckled their belts, cleaned themselves up a little, and washed their hands, in an almost ceremonious way, opting themselves out of the situation. I was no longer in their hands. I was no longer in Daisuke's.

I managed to faintly cry, with what little energy and pride I had left, "Why…"

Then, they left. Takeshi swung the door open first, with a deviant smile of satisfaction in his face, mumbling to himself, but clear enough to hear. Daisuke hesitated, but he left me there on the floor. Lying on the floor, nearly dead and certainly brokenhearted.

I laid there for what seemed forever. My blood was splattered across the blue, grimy tiles of the bathroom floor. I laid there, face, inches from the urinals. My pants to my ankles, sobbing in shame. I hated myself. I hated how I didn't stand up for myself. I hated how I was aroused the whole time, and I still was, sobbing and crying. And I was still sprung. I hated how broken I was inside. I hated how he violated me. I hated him. But Daisuke… I hated how he left.

I managed to wash up a bit, struggling not to weep and snivel. I tried to wipe most of the blood from my face, and some of the semen that seeped from my ass. I stumbled out of the bathroom, and out of the empty hallway. I stumbled out of the school, and proceeded on my trek, homeward bound. My mom wouldn't be at home, so I thought it would be best to die in the comfort of the bathtub. I made the journey home, limping, trying to walk normally.

I got to the apartment after struggling up the 8 flights of stairs, and closed the door behind me and I shut my eyes. With a renewed breath, I steadfastly limped towards the washing machine that was down the hallway and across from my bedroom, and tossed all my clothes into it. All my feelings. All my pain. Spinning around in a gentle cycle.

Then, I slowly advanced towards the bathroom, naked, only to be stopped by a mirror that was at the end of the hallway. It was a mirror that went from floor to ceiling. I remembered everyday since we moved in; I would look at that mirror to build my self-confidence.

'Takeru… You could do it!' I would say.

'Takeru… Try to find what treasures the world has in store for you today!'

'Takeru… Please, think more positively!'

'Takeru… Don't kill yourself today.'

This time… I just looked, and I let my body do the talking. Even my own brain pitied me. I had bruises everywhere. But I saw, through the mirror, that I was dead. I got to the bathtub, and turned on the water. Hot. Boiling hot. I turned off the water when it overflowed, and the smoldering heat burned my toes. This wasn't going to be good, but it had to be done.

As I thought, the hot water scorched my bruises, and I yelled in throbbing pain. After that ordeal, I began to ease my agitated, jumbled mind. I only thought about what Takeshi said before Daisuke left.

"_Why… What did I do to you?"_

"_You were born. That's why." _

For the rest of the afternoon, I laid there, in that tub, way after the crimson water was drained, and I sobbed. Not for what happened, but for what didn't happen.

I never mentioned what happened, until now. I went to school the next day, and became an actor. I, the actor, worthy of a prestigious accolade, only awarded to those who fake existence. I went on with my second day of sophomore year, gracefully ignoring the pain. I began to make friends, enjoy my classes and laugh and sing and smile. But I would run, and find comfort in the darkness. I waited eagerly for every chance I got to curl up in the dark corner of my room, and cry and bleed. That's when I felt alive.

Perhaps, I am waiting. Waiting for something to wake me up. Waiting to die. Waiting to realize that I've been dead from day one. Waiting for him? Who knows. I'm just waiting, hoping, wanting. Waiting, to heal. Hoping, to see the boy that punched my chest and broke my heart. Wanting, to know if this was what one would call, 'love.'

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**The end. Poor Takeru. Remember, he lives for reviews! )**

**ek**


	3. Hikari

**sorri. it has been a while. so much has happened in my life. primarily, laziness. here's the 3rd chapter. expect 6. thank you guys for all the review! Oh, i don't own digimon. and, i don't know if this is too deep. i guess the m-rating was good enough. **

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_**To Wait, Perchance to Know.**_

_Hikari._

Waiting. It does a toll on the mind and spirit, but it has made me stronger and surer of myself, I guess. Now I'm more patient and humble. Because of all that waiting I've done, I am what I am today. Miserable. You would be wondering, 'But Takeru, you have the heart of the greatest girl in the world! You should be doing summersaults and be shout for joy!' You do have a point. Then why am I still waiting? Waiting… to fall in love. Waiting to be.

There was a moment in time when Hikari Yagami cared for me. There was a moment where I knew true happiness. We were so close. Practically, like boyfriend and girlfriend. So close. But now, I wait here, overlooking the majesty of everything, spitting in the face of God's creations. I wait here, alone.

I am utterly bewildered by the fact that I did so many things for her. I still can't believe myself.

I went about sophomore year without much trouble. I dreaded all of my classes. No, not because of the scholastic challenges, but because of the social anxiety I had. I had friends, or so I thought, and so did they in having a friend in me. The truth is, I had friends for the sake of having friends. I feared the worst-case scenario of being the butt of every fuckin' joke at school. Yah, I did care what people thought of me. Guilty, I am, of a crime far worse than murder.

Anyways, I easily got lost in the vastness of World History. My best daydreams happen there, where I dream that I am the mighty Genghis Khan, or the benevolent tyrant, Alexander the Great. Other than that simple indiscretion, we had one thing in common: We both crave the power that was just out of our grasps. Of course, my dreams, as do my hopes, end with a late reaction to the slugging of a crumpled note, thrown by Hikari. It's always the same question scribbled by one of her pens d'jour, screaming of a not-really recessed insecurity.

"Do you love me?"

And to give a most suited response, there were always the obligatory boxes where I had to check my love for her. Without hesitation, without thought, and without feeling, I always checked yes. Then, I would do the simple underhand-backwards throw past the violet-haired girl Miyako, to Hikari, awaiting my response. It's not like she minded. This whole "relationship" thing was her idea in the first place. Miyako always insisted on playing match-maker, perhaps to make up for her lack of sexual success.

Day after day, this would be the usual routine. Hikari would hurl the note over, I would do my part and toss it back, and Hikari would blush, and Miyako would swoon and pummel me with pushes. Day after day, she would be there, waiting for me outside the gates, her eyes full of hope. They were full of the very same hope I envied. Day after day, I would walk Hikari home, hold her hand as she flirtatiously tug at my long sleeves and walk her home. Then I would give her a peck on the cheek, and think nothing of it. She would always insist for me to stay over her place for a bit, but I would insist that we should wait 'til we were married. I'm not one to take chances.

Day after day, it's the same unexplainable routine. I would run home, as my tears would glisten in the sunlight when falling from my cheeks. I would run to seek the comfort of the darkness within. Day after day, I would fumble around with my keys, trying to open the door in a panic. After getting it open on the fourth try, I would slam the door behind me, kick off my shoes, and pull off my shirt, revealing a grotesquely beautiful amount of wounds, struggling to heal. I would run to my room, ignoring the mirror in the hallway, and grab my laptop, letting out a sigh of success due to the fact that my efforts of downloading the night before paid off. Then, I would moved my mattress that hugged the bright corner of my room, and get a cigar box full of valuables, and proceed to the bathroom, loaded with a bunch of stuff and with an intent to relieve, and relive.

First, I would watch. It was what my body desired. My body wanted it again, so badly. I guess gay porn was my fuckin' Achilles' heel. Image after image, frame after frame of a desired, forbidden passion, every muscle would contract and yearn, wanting more. I laid in the bathtub, with the cigar box placed on the side, and my laptop, flashing my wants, mounted on top of the toilet seat next to the tub. Stroking and squinting onward became clockwork. Then I wouldn't look any further, but just let my mind play with temptation, and I would come into a new existence and understanding, which faded away into oblivion in a matter of seconds.

After reaching several unsatisfying climaxes, I would begin to shake. I would begin to hate myself even more. Covered in my own shame and sweat, I would turn the water on, freezing cold, and reach for the cigar box. My cigar box, full of blood-stained razors. The tears of joy would fall as my blood turned the water a rosy pink, and I would fall into euphoria. Sometimes, my cell phone would ring. Of course, it was Hikari. On some days I would answer it, and talk to her as if nothing happened. Usually, she would tell me about how bad her day was, and how ungrateful everyone was to her. I nod, as if she was looking at me, and drift off into nothingness, only chiming in when her tone fluctuates from the norm, which always signified a question. I would hang up, and repeat the routine, like medicine. Most days, I would let it ring; ready to tell her an excuse the next time I would see her. Day after day, I couldn't begin to explain to myself what I was doing.

Day after day, I would wake up, and act like it never happened, over and over again.

Night after night, Hikari would call. She always insisted on calling me at 2 or 3. I would pretend that I was sleeping, since she thought it was cute that she would be the last thing, and the first thing I speak to, at the same time. I have no choice but to pick up. All I would be doing was rocking myself in the comfort of the darkness. I usually signaled an ending to the conversation, so I would do my thing.

"Good Night, Hikari…"

"Kerukins, don't you mean 'Good Morning?'"

"Yah, probably. Sweet Dreams…"

"You too… Takeru, I love you…"

"Love you too, Hikari…"

The dial tone would resonate for the longest time, literally piercing my heart. I would watch the sunrise, contemplating my non-existent happiness. I would watch the sunrise, contemplating how I would manage to survive another day at school without breaking my façade. I would watch the sunrise, contemplating what Daisuke was possibly dreaming about.

Well, I guess fate thought that this particular routine was getting old. Sophomore year was going by without a hitch. Yes, not much happened that year. All I know was that Hikari was head over heels for me, and I was just there to pick up the pieces and to follow up with the routine.

Oh, I joined the basketball team. Junior Varsity. Not that bad. I would take the long way, around the soccer field, to get to the gym, everyday for practice. Hoping, perhaps to see… I never did. I dreaded the after-practice shower. Let's end it at that note.

Fate is cruel, indeed. One particular warm spring day after school, I did my thing, and Hikari did hers. So, she continued with the ritual.

"Wanna come in?" I hesitated for a minute, as usual. I wanted her to have the inkling that I cared for her, and that leaving was a devastating consequence.

"Umm… Can't." She pulled me in closer, and began to kiss me, and I followed up with a tender nibble to her ear and a gnawing to her neck. She melted, and turned on her puppy-dog eyes.

"Takeru… Please?" How could I refuse? Why didn't I? I had so much to do at home.

"Ok…" Suddenly, my world stopped and my mind froze in its tracks. There he was, sitting on the Yagami's loveseat, lazily, but ever so dreamily, flipping through the channels: Daisuke. Hikari nonchalantly gave a faint greeting to Dai while walking to her room, only then correcting herself by turning around.

"Oh, Kerukins…"

I hate when she calls me that, and yet, she went on.

"Takeru, this is Daisuke Motomiya. He's on the same team as Oniichan." Suddenly, he stood up, and my gawking eyes met his calm grin.

'Daisuke. My Daisuke…' 

"Dai, this is Takeru, my Kerukins!" Hikari went on, blabbering about how it was funny that after going to the same school for some semesters now, that we haven't even met, let alone, cross paths. What happened next collapsed all my known inhibitions. He began to shake my hand.

"So… This is the famous Takeru I've heard so much about…" All I did was awkwardly nod my head to gesture a 'yes,' which is the least bit usual for me. I tended to retort with a witty, ice cold comment, but alas, I was at a loss for words. This was Daisuke. Before I could stop my mind from imploding due to confusion, Hikari started to drag me into her room, but all I notice was Daisuke, my Daisuke who sat back down on the loveseat, almost seductively, flipping through the channels once again, landing on one particular channel. Finally, I broke the silence.

"What are you watchin'?" I said, sheepishly. He slowly turned his head, and I grew tense.

"Oh. This one show that I'm absolutely in love with! It's about these dopey little kids that get transported to some world where they team up with monsters, and they get into some crazy adventures! Have you ever seen it?" I could see the excitement in his eyes, and that gleam that I couldn't forget, if I ever wanted to.

"Yah! That's my favorite show!" I smiled like I never smiled before. I don't know what it was. Was it because we both shared the same taste in television shows? Was it because my Daisuke was talking to me?

"Really? Well, I know you guys are busy… and besides, I'm waiting for Taichi. We're gonna play some soccer…" Before I could spit out a response, Hikari intervened.

"Good. You do that. Bye Daisuke!" She tried to drag me into her room, but I insisted on staying.

"Anyways, you and me should watch it together sometime… Hikari can't stand it! I'll call you… I'll get your number from Hikari later!" I waved goodbye as Hikari succeeded in getting me into her room. The details of what happened next were kind of sketchy. Hikari kissed me. She pounced on me herd, and she kissed me. She threw me on the bed, and I kissed her back. I felt that same feeling that I always wanted.

I blacked out.

I woke up in my bed, surrounded by the comfort of darkness. The moonlight was leaking through my window, illuminating only on my cell phone on my nightstand, like a spotlight. I rubbed my eyes, hoping for some relief. Trying to regain some sort of focus, I starred at my alarm clock until the blurriness of the emerald quartz crystals made sense. 3:00, it read. Suddenly, I heard an indistinguishable noise, like a sort of flat buzzing. I turned to my cell phone, which was vibrating with delight. I hesitated to answer, but as I glanced over, I realized it wasn't Hikari. It was Daisuke. Knowing it was Dai, I hesitated even more. My heart couldn't handle the heartache that was to come. But alas, I did my thing. I answered the phone, but I had to force the words out of my throat. I had to force out the very same words that my heart was holding back.

"Dai… Is that you?"

"Yah. It's me. I couldn't sleep. Besides, Hikari always told me that she would call you at this hour, and you were totally chill with it. That's true, right?"

"Yah… No problem. So, what's up?"

"Well, I was just wondering… If you're not to busy… Tomorrow, we could hang out together? You know… Play some video games, eat some food, watch TV… whatever you want."

"Umm…"

What to do? This was the very same boy that ruined my dreams, scratched my memories, and stole my heart… Now he wants to hang out…

"Sure… Sounds nice. So, I'll see you after school?"

"It's a date."

I tried to not project the awkward feelings I had into the receiver, so I was silent. Only after a few moments of tension, I said my goodbyes, and he said his.

"Good night…"

"Good night, Takeru…"

And that was it. The next day, we hung out. And the day after that, we hung out. Over the next two weeks, my regiment was quite different. Daisuke and I watched thousands upon thousands of movies, and beaten thousands of games, viewed an infinite amount of hours of television, and became notorious in the Chinese takeout world, being known for tipping well. Hikari stopped calling. Hikari didn't toss any notes to me over her shoulder. Hikari no longer waited for me after practice. Instead, Daisuke was there, since his soccer practice ended at the same time as my basketball practice. I chucked my razors into the trash. I found no need to use them. I actually used my computer to do homework. We did what little homework we wanted to do, together. I took real baths, in the bathtub. For once, I wasn't a slave to the routine, to my addiction. I had a new routine. I had a new addiction. Being with Daisuke became my routine. Being happy became my addiction.

Two weeks passed, and life couldn't have been any better.

I learned something. Someone once told me, "To wait, perchance to know, and all the morrow, you shall be." An odd statement, yes it is. But, It is meant to explain the open-ended questions of life. One cannot be content with his or her life. The purpose of living is to always strive for more. It is meant to never have any regret. It is meant to live not a life of righteousness, but a life of happiness. My father told me this. He told me this, as he left for the very last time. And, I waited, hoping to know.

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**I don't know why this chapter took a while. i hope its to your guys's liking. reviews! thanks!**


	4. Father

**so... it has been a while. i finally situated myself in a way where i could just spit out stories. i thought i would finish this first. i decided there will be definitely be a few more chapters. at least 2. so... look out for that in the near future... ok? hope you like this one. tell me what you think!**

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_**To Wait, Perchance to Know.**_

_Father._

To wait for my memories? Perchance, to know for memory's sake? I had to scream. The memories, they fade into an existence that is dead. Deep, inside… I am dead. As time passes by, I realize the sun has shone. It is only expected that the sun will set, and my joy will only become a treasured memory that I will forget. It is only expected that my dreams, my joys, my memories, will fade…

My memories, broken pieces that crack under the pressure of holding on to that sense of nostalgia. The speeding green streaks, the plethora of color that shines from a result of nature's goodness and suburban sprawl. They paint a picture in my mind. The rhythmic repetition of the riveting of the train against the tracks is my soundtrack.

3 years, 9 months, and 23 days. A dog, more like a puppy. White as the freshly fallen snow from winter's first song, and the orchestra continued with such a somber sonata. One in D minor, perhaps. Not Beethoven, since he's too cheerful. Simply struggling to exist, he is crushed by the pain and weight of the world. His last whimper, a faint cry for help.

"_Wake up, please… Yuki… Wake up, for me?"_

"_It's not going to work… He's dead."_

"_Why did you do it, Father?"_

"_I had my reasons… If you will ask me one day, I will tell you. If I tell you now, you will not understand."_

It's funny how memories work. The good ones happen to be forgotten, while the painful ones haunt your mind and body. My father, and his ways. Every memory has been etched into my mind, like some deviant substandard fashionista taking a rhinestone gun to an innocent cardigan. Lucky for my logic, as well as my sense of wit, they all happen to be bad ones. I was witness to the murder. Quick and intentionally painless, which is what he truly deserved. My father, beholder of the rifle that ceased his life. The crimson of my Yuki's blood, a focal piece of the palette that is my memory.

I guess my cynicism has gotten the best of me.

A month ago, my father called me to spend the weekend at his house, and I, somehow, reluctantly accepted. It was two weeks into my new life, and now I had to duel with my past demons. My father lived in a quaint house, north of the hustle and bustle of Tokyo, so the trip allowed me to think about something for once, rather than wait for nothing.

This thinking time allowed me to ponder the tragic nature of my father and mother. It's like one of those cheesy romantic novels that you find next to the cigarettes, gum and tabloids in the express checkout lane of your local second-rate supermarket. My mother met my father on the streets of San Francisco. You can say it was love at first site. My mother was the foreign exchange student-slash-Asian prostitute desiring to make that dollar to make tuition, and my father was the American John, desiring a cheap thrill that didn't require the protection. Yah, he loved to live on the edge.

Anyways, one lonely Friday night, my father decided to walk amongst the nitty-gritty, and there, in a now-abandoned motel under some infamous freeway off ramp I can't remember, they consummated their inevitable love for each other, as I wishfully thought. By semester's end, my mother found out that she was pregnant with Yamato, and my father, being a man of his honor, decided to support her. He moved to Japan, and they lived together, happily. I imagined that their situation was like one of those romantic comedies, where they merely got by, but at the end of the day, they always had their little slow dance out on the balcony against the sinking sun, looking over the bay.

Yes, hopeless romantic here. But as soon as I was brought into the world, the magic dissipated.

My father took up the bottle, and my mom had to deal with the repercussions. After the many sleepless nights with eyes filling up with sheer terror, my mother had enough. I remembered those nights where my father would stumble to the liquor store, and it was just mom and I. She would ask me to smile, and I did. I didn't know why, but when I did, she began to shed very tranquil tears. I guess it was jealousy. I guess she wanted to smile once again, like I did. Pure jealousy, that's what it was. She probably didn't think anything of me.

They divorced when I was 6, and only a few months later, I was marching down the aisle of a stale, smoke-stained chapel, wearing an unnaturally blue ring-bearer suit, for these people I don't even know or care about: my mother and her new husband-to-be.

My mother smiled once again, and Yamato was there to pick up what was left of her shattered dreams. The three seemed like the family that all families would envy. I was the outsider, naturally. He would always smile at me, make conversation… Stuff like that. You know, fake stuff. I didn't care for it, but I entertained his notion of actually getting close to me. But, it was futile. In the end, it was the end. They divorced, and I moved on with flying colors. He said he left because Yamato's imprisonment was an emotional and financial burden. Lies. I like to see that, as "dad" no longer had his sexually deviant stepson to screw around with. Hmm… Dad.

Yeah, right. I only have one father, and I will forever love him. I'm sorry.

Suddenly, the northward-bound train began to rumble unusually. I've ridden this train enough times to know that this "turbulence" wasn't normal. The train made one huge jump off the track, and caused me to be thrown back against the not-so-cushioned seat.

There was a gap in timing in which I took my hand to the scar that ran along my left shoulder blade. I felt the rough inconsistencies, the dismal effort my body made to erase the pain. My back. That scar. It hurts.

Yes, I lied. There are some scars that never heal.

5 years, 11 months and 16 days. I laid there, almost lifeless. My body, only a vessel, emptying all that is good and pure on to the cold canary tiles of the bathroom floor. Etched amongst the grit, my blood. My precious blood, pouring from the wound, afflicted by an act of love. It is a love that only a father can give to his son.

"Fa-Fa-Fath-Father… I'm sorry… I'm… I…" 

"_Don't… Ever… Do… That… Again."_

Such stern words from such a loving father. My father. With one hand, he held me close. With the other, a knife.

My reluctance to remember paid off ten fold. I arrived at the station around dusk. To me, this was the most beautiful time of the day. It was the sun's last stance against the approaching moon and its minions, the stars. This clash of nature displayed such an elegant showcase. Inside, I was flying around, freely… joyfully.

I stepped off the train, only to be greeted with the image I know best. He was standing there, leaning against his relic of a car, dressed in a brownish corduroy jacket, and off-green slacks to match. He was in a faded light blue dress shirt, with a beret to hide his short, blonde locks. He was reading his newspaper, then acknowledged my presence by making subtle eye contact accompanied by a head nod and a clearing of the throat. Then, as expected, he returned to his newspaper, ever so nonchalantly. After going into his car, reeking of nostalgia, and driving longer than an awkward silence would permit, he spoke to me.

"How's your mother, Boy?"

"Fine…"

"Un..."

That was it. I didn't want to make unnecessary conversation. If I brought up Yamato, he would have definitely went berserk. After I told him over the phone that he was arrested, and the circumstances that surrounded said arrest, he said nothing. He only muttered under his breath a faint, "I knew it," and hung up.

We finally made it to his apartment. It was only my third time to go there, and yet again, it did not cease to take my breath away. Amongst the rural backdrop, there was this huge, skyscraping apartment building. It was white, but always had a hint of emotion. I happened to be a cross of hue between a shallow orange and a hazy magenta, like the near-night sky.

He lived on the 34th floor. There were 35 merciless stories to climb. He insisted on taking the stairs, instead of the awaiting elevators. I trusted his judgment, since there would be no room for chit-chat amongst all the huffing and puffing.

When I entered the door, my eyes went straight to all the picture frames that were hanging on the wall. There were many. Very happy photographs, capturing only the happiest of memories. The sentiment was overwhelming. I was a little jealous. I was jealous of Sakura, my father's daughter.

She always epitomized this jaded sense of beauty I held. She was a cute little mystery. She had vanilla skin with long, full jet-black hair. They shaded her gentle blue eyes, and her smile always matched her slightly rosy cheeks, and her 10-year old innocence. She seemed so happy and carefree. Of course, I never met her. I probably never will.

"How's Sakura?"

"Fine… She's in Hong Kong with her mother this weekend. Shopping spree, at my expense, of course…"

That seemed reasonable at first, except they happen to always be gone whenever I visit my father. Although the last reasons were more bizarre than that one. I was surprised my father didn't say they went to Africa to get ostrich eggs for next weekend's breakfast omelet.

"Umm… How's life, Boy?"

That was just a little unexpected. I didn't know my father actually wanted to carry out a conversation. Maybe things were different. He did look much happier in those photos on the wall. Like a real father… I still loved him, no matter what.

"Good…"

"Oh."

I froze. I didn't know what to say. I had to think on my feet. I had to think of something that actually appease my father. I didn't even think my life was satisfactory enough to be proud of it. How would I have convinced someone else, especially my father?

"I have a girlfriend… Her name's Hikari…"

I had a sudden chill. That name. Hikari. I should have checked up on her. It didn't call her in weeks. I wonder what was going through her head at that time.

"Really?"

I tensed up. He seemed kind of upset, yet he had a sinister looking grin on his face, just as if he was about to explode in either anger or laughter.

"Good. You're much better off than your fag of a brother."

I didn't want to admit to know what he was talking about, but he insisted continuing with his story. He pulled me in closer. Uncomfortably closer…

"Yah, Yamato's a fuckin' fag. Probably that dumb-fuck of a fag your mom married just encouraged him, or some shit. I caught him with some boy named Taichi, or something like that. I think this was when he was 8… Where'd the fuck he learned that? He was the one giving Taichi…"

I tuned out. I didn't want to hear the rest of my father's homophobic rant. I'm sure he knew about me.

"I almost killed Yamato that day. I should have just finished him off… He wouldn't be in jail… I should have just killed him, like I killed your damn dog. That piece of shit kept barking… Never liked the damn mutt…"

I had to get myself out of that. I had to think happy thoughts. I needed to escape. I needed to be immersed in much more gentler memories. Happy, fuzzy memories, I adored.

5 years, 11 months and 16 days. I happened to bring in a backpack that offended some people. I guess they were envious, because back then, my father tried to get me the best, despite my objections. He always thought that maintaining an image was most important. Anyways. I was being bullied. It was a stream of meaningless punches and kicks. I couldn't fight back. I was as scrawny as ever, and these 3 tough kids, lacking in love and self-esteem, had to take it out on someone. I lacked those things too, but I only took it out on myself. Suddenly, the punches, the kicks, the name-calling stopped. All I saw was the hand of a boy, trying to pull me up from my disgrace.

"Man… You look messed up… Are you okay?"

"Yah… I am…"

All I did was collapse into his arms. His warm arms, was all I remembered. I felt warmed. I felt loved. For the first time, I felt loved.

I found myself in Sakura's room with a full tummy. I usually slept on the couch, but my father probably insisted on me sleeping in her room. It was much more sterile than I thought. The sheets were pure white, very neatly folded. Everything was so clean, so dull. So cold. All that differentiated from the frosty stencil was a teddy bear, sitting properly upright. It seemed to have a sheepish smile, struggling almost. My eyes floated around her room, only to focus on a slim book that was slightly out of its place. It was sitting amongst other books on a single shelf on a wall. I approached it with caution. It was calling to me. Sakura. She was calling me. Then, my cell rang.

"Hello?"

"Hey…"

"Hey, Daisuke."

It was Daisuke. I hadn't felt so much at ease. His voice so full of concern, brought me back to a warm feeling I so desired.

"Man… You sound messed up… Are you ok?"

I restrained an escaping gasp from my chest. My breath was taken away for a second.

"No… I mean, yah. I'm fine…"

I tried to laugh off the tension. Daisuke had a long pause, hopefully not to flatter me in any way. He can be so thoughtful when he wants to be.

"Takeru… Hikari's been acting weird."

"What? What happened?"

I actually showed some genuine concern. The thought of Hikari in any perilous situation made me worry. Don't get me wrong, I love Hikari. At least, I did at that moment. I sat down on a stool in Sakura's room, and began to listen to Daisuke.

"She's been moping around for weeks. She hasn't smiled in a long time. I visited her this afternoon, and she was so down. She wondered why you wouldn't call, and then she would burst into tears. You need to see her. I'm afraid she's going to do something. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she wasn't making sense. So, while she went to the bathroom, I snooped around and I found a few bottles under her bed. Save her, Takeru. I'm worried. I'm worried Takeru…"

Again, he caught my attention. I had to do something.

"Ok. I'll leave tonight. Hopefully, I'll make it home in an hour and a half."

"I'm glad…"

I rose to my feet, only to have the top of my head meet with that shelf. The shelf rumbled off its track, but only the slim book fell onto the floor. The pain made me delirious with what I said.

"Ahh… Oww… I gotta go... Ahh… Love you, Dai…"

"I love you too… Bye…"

And he hung up. I was rubbing the top of my head, at the contact point. What seemed like an eternity later, I realized what I said. I realized what slipped out of my heart and out of my lips. I said that I loved Daisuke. I said that I loved Daisuke, to Daisuke. I only further realized that he said that he loved me back. I was astonished. I was floating. I never flew so high in my life. I finally found that warm feeling I so desired that wasn't a faint memory. I loved Daisuke Motomiya, and Daisuke Motomiya loved me back. After my daze, I fell. I fell hard. I fell hard, onto Sakura's bedroom floor, my face landing inches next to the fallen book. Just my luck, eh? I opened the journal.

The days seem to get longer and longer. With every ounce of soul I have left, I cry to depths of an inexistent guardian. My angel, hear me please. Please, release me. His hands, I cannot take anymore. I flinch at the very thought. At one moment, they can be gentle, warm, kind… loving, even. The next, full of an animosity most cruel. Soul-crushing, most definitely. All because I caught him. In the bathtub. Exposure. Horrifying images entangled in an unknown pleasure. Now, I pay a price. I count my days, for my penance. I count my days, hoping to be taken away. School has become nothing to me, and the blade has failed me many a times. Guardian angel, I pray. Save me. Save mom. At the very least, please let me wake up from this nightmare…

I began to sob. Such a fragile soul, crushed by my beloved father. It was a crime, against my very notions. I couldn't let her go through what I went through. I wanted to call the police. I had to. I couldn't allow him to hurt an innocent soul. I had to.

But I didn't. He would have killed her when he got the chance. I took a pen, and scribbled something down. I couldn't let her give up. My father wasn't worth it. I left. I didn't bother to say goodbye to my father. I had no reason to. I had no other reason to stay.

I took the evening train to Tokyo. The only thing that blanketed me from the starry night, besides the metal walls of the train, was my reminiscing.

5 years, 11 months and 16 days. In his embrace. In Daisuke's embrace. I muffled out a "thank you." Then, I kissed him. I kissed him, and I felt loved. I felt alive. I felt myself. Then, I was pulled away. My father pulled me away, holding onto my wrist. Dragging me, into the car. Shouting impurities. My ears. My eyes. He slammed my face onto the dashboard. Took me inside, threw me against the wall. Kicked me hard in the stomach. Steel-toed boots. I cleared the blood out of my throat. I try to crawl away, but he dragged me into the bathroom, with a knife in one hand. The door muted my screams. My agony, splashed against the bathtub backsplash.

My back. That scar. It hurts.

I'm waiting for justice to be served. Sakura, I know. Please. Let me watch over you. We now share a common fate, a common strength. My sister, my sister. Hang in there.

I'm waiting for some support. Hikari, my Hikari. Please. Let us learn what love is.

Daisuke. I'm waiting for you to come back. I know that I'll be able to say it to you. Please, wait for me.

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**I really don't think much of the ending. it has been several months. i just tried to spit this chapter out. like it? hate it? let me know... all you guys' reviews are really helpful, good or bad!**


	5. Taichi

**Yay! I actually kept a promise. Well, it's the end of one week, and the beginning of another. So, as i promised, here is the 5th chapter. Since there was some confusion, this takes place the same night as ch.4, which took place two weeks after ch.3. Well, not really. The story, not the narration. Get it? Anyways, hope you like this. Look out for the finale, where it all pulls together. Oh, i don't digimon. Never did. Probably, most likely never will. Please review! I do read them. They're like a guilty pleasure to me. **

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**_To Wait, Perchance to Know._**

_Taichi._

Waiting for someone, in itself, is a daunting task. It takes a lot out on one's soul, and it's usually unrequited. You cannot blame the dreamer's disease, for it is that shard of hope that keeps us waiting, dreaming of what could be. It is the basis of all angst, a feeling I know to well. My generation is a generation of dreamers, waiting for that day where dreams are not figments of memory, that we must watch pass by, only to wait for the next one. I wait, hoping to know if life is worth waiting for.

I arrived at the train station around a few minutes before midnight, but lucky for me, it was a Friday. All the trains were Tokyo-bound, sending those who were ready to get their freak on to the hottest and noisiest clubs, for a night of guaranteed regret. I think that's not my thing. All the sweat and gyration isn't appealing to any degree. Give me a quiet night at home, with that special someone, possibly entangled in warm comforter, eating all the ice cream around the tri-prefecture area, talking about our past mistakes, our present stomach aches, and our future goals. That's my dream.

I used the little money I had to catch a cab to Hikari's. Thanks to my father's wallet that was lying on the kitchen counter, I took some money. Only enough to buy a snack on the train, because I'm an honest guy. The cab ride was long, even arduous. I had to shelter my nose from the lingering stench of vintage vomit that lined the cab's suede bench seat. The driver didn't smell that great either. He reeked of self-deprecation and unreliability. But, thank a higher maker; I made it in 10 minutes, which was quite astounding. Astonishing, even.

I stood at the door for a minute, feeling the gentle night breeze blew behind my neck. I stood there, with a lingering sense of hesitation floating above my head. The slight gust blew threw my dirty blonde locks, my vintage green tee, through the cavernous pores of my dark aged jeans, down to my not-so-reliable flip-flops. Yup. After having them for a few years, they faltered to a climb of stairs. A real shame, it was.

That gentle breeze was a feeling of relief. It was so cold. It was so familiar.

After I gathered my nerves, I fumbled with the doorknob. I only realized after much recollection that I didn't bother to knock, but the door was unlocked. It was as if they were expecting me. I really didn't put that much thought into it. I could easily state that the decision to go in was made with certain reluctance, but with pure gut. Yes. I made that choice to go in. I didn't care. Hikari was in trouble. I cared for Hikari. I really did. She cared for me.

I opened the door, only to meet a disheveled Taichi, lounging on the couch, waiting. He was in a constant gaze, heavily staring at the moon's reflection across a jaded blue bay. Well, keep in mind, Taichi appeared to be more rugged than disheveled. In the right light, he may have seen decent. That night, it happened to be not the right light.

I had the instinct to scream for her.

"Where's Hikari?" I exclaimed from the top of my lungs, to the bottom of my heart. I screamed for her. Hikari. He took his sweet time to respond, still looking longingly at the majesty of the dark indentations that graced the brightest face of the moon. At the midst of exchanging simple glances, I felt his essence, that day. His eyes were eyes of humility and devotion, two assets that had eluded me.

"Takeru, don't hurt Hikari… Please…"

I nodded as a response to such a direct request. We never bantered and danced with petty small talk, but I was surprised that Taichi actually engaged in a conversation. After looking at the midnight sky that sparkled with a million points of light, he turned his head towards me and leaked out a faint smile.

"You know… You look more and more like your brother everyday…"

He let out a faint sigh, and drifted back into a self-founded sense of euphoria. An inner-peace, if you will. He closed his eyes gently, but they were shut tight, and he reminisced. He started humming a familiar tune. It was a tune that I thought I only heard in my dreams, or in faint memories. It was a melody that brought me to a world of dreams and inevitability. It was a world in which I felt that at ease. It was Yamato's song.

I remember like it was yesterday. Oddly, I don't when exactly it happened. I guess it was during that limbo between the time in which my father beat us into submission and my mother divorced her shortly lived 2nd husband. I remember leaning against the door of Yamato's room. I overheard a conversation, but I never knew whom Yamato spoke to. I can only assume it was someone he truly trusted.

_It was a day I won't forget. I remember it was Taichi and I. I called him to meet me in front of the apartment building entrance. It was late already. Afternoonish, I think. He was late, but he was there. He was being his usual obnoxious self. Same ol' blue shirt and khaki shorts, knee-high socks, fly kicks. Same ol' goggles. Same ol' Taichi. I didn't know why I overdressed. Even I thought I used too much gel that day. He was pushing me around, playfully. I only pushed back, so that he knew I cared. But that day, I was so nervous. I didn't know why I called him in the first place. Moreover, I didn't know why I was so nervous. But, like a bolt of lightning, I remembered why I called him, so I grabbed my guitar that was behind the coat rack, near the front door. I hid it there, thinking that my mind would forget. But my heart would have never allowed such a thing. It was just Taichi. Just Taichi and me. For once, I felt good._

He gazed onward. Without any resentment from the peanut gallery, I proceeded to Hikari's room. Before leaving, I heard a faint whisper, as if it was a prayer to the gods of love and luck.

"I wonder if he still loves me… I wonder if I'll ever hear that song again…"

I didn't know exactly what to expect. At the time, I didn't know what sort of mental or physical anguish she was going through. At the time, I thought she was incapable of any form of negative, or rather, malicious emotion. She was the one girl that all the girls wanted to be, and all the guys wanted to be with. And I had her wrapped around my proverbial finger, clinging onto every nonexistent word that I failed to mutter to her, even if it was just to let her know that she wasn't that girl to me. She was Hikari to me, actually. In all actuality, she was just one of those people who try to hold up the glimmering night sky, just to preserve, or prove, rather and quite frankly, the resilience of the stars. The world of perfection that she lived in was falling apart, one cornerstone after another. Even though I caused the cataclysm, I wanted to make it clear that I would pick up the pieces. I didn't perceive the damage that I done. I didn't perceive that there was damage dealt in the first place. I'm sorry, Hikari. I truly am.

_We were walking down the tree-lined sidewalk that lined the outskirts of the park. Each step, my and I guess fate wanted to play with my freeform jittery nerves. So, for the sake of kicks and giggles, an apple from some sinister tree fell onto my head, and it scared the life out of me. Already frantic, I began to shout and scream and run around, as if it was something supernaturally horrific. Almost like a tantrum, it was. And Taichi was there, looking at me, who was clearly making a fool out of myself. _

_The next thing I know, I see him with those gentle eyes of his, and he took my arm and pulled me aside, as if he was defending me from the festering, pestering apple, which laid on the unleveled slab of sidewalk in half-glory. Then, he looked at, straight in the eye, assuming if it had any, and without any hesitation, he used his fancy soccer moves and kicked it into the busy street. It was so brave of him. Something that was ascribed into my memory was that overripe apple being crushed by the tire of a passing freight truck. It was a pleasant sight to see, but not as pleasant as the satisfaction that was in Taichi's eyes afterwards. He noticed that I was calm, and I noticed that I was smiling. Shortly afterwards, I began to feel the butterflies emerging from cocoons of anxiety. Yep. I was nervous again._

Hikari was in her bed, sitting in the dark. To me, quite a familiar thing, or at least it was for a while. But she was smiling. I would have never expected such a smile from her. It was as if she was really happy to see me. I started to second-guess myself. I didn't know why she was smiling. There was no camera. She always had the idea that she had to present herself every moment of the day, as if she was posing for pictures that weren't being taken. It was always a front with her. Always proving her happiness. Her one true flaw was her opaque soul. I never knew what she was feeling.

"Are you okay, Hikari?" I guess I should have made my sense of caring more convincing. Or at least I should have mentioned that I loved her, in some way. She looked at me, with her body wrapped by a pink comforter, only exposing her bare feet, her face, and her hazelnut-chestnut-fused locks. All I did was stare at her from the comfort of the doorway, gawking at her hovering incompetence. She seemed okay. The thought of her in any sort of trouble made me drop all my things, including any rational thinking, to rush to her, only to figure out that she was lying.

"Yah… I just missed you these past few weeks…" I was a little relieved, but still uneasy, and most definitely, perturbed and annoyed. Her smile looked warm, but it didn't feel that way. I've been around warm smiles, and I knew that the smile she had wasn't warm. "Takeru," she continued, "I don't care that you haven't called in a while, because you're here right now. You really love me…"

I did. I thought I did.

"And since you really love me," she murmured seductively, "I'm going to prove that I love you. I'm going to make my Kerukins happy…" She stood up, and began to sashay my way, unraveling herself from the confines of the blanket, to reveal nothing. She was wearing nothing. And moments after, I found myself wearing nothing. We were in the heat of a passionate moment. Hot, sweaty, and steamy. I began to fade away into nostalgia, with my last conscious act being a deceitful one, to both Hikari and myself.

"I love you… Hikari…"

_He saw the tears that were welling up in my eyes. I knew I couldn't hide them. Most definitely as a gesture to rid me of the troubling feelings shown on my face, he took my arm again, and dragged me to the park. He told me to close my eyes and trust him. I did. My entire heart, I did. After a few stumbles and steep climbs, he told me to open my eyes. As I did, the lights of the lampposts began to flicker on. We were at the playground. Sure, we may have been a little too old for it, but nothing was more fun than the playground. I guess he knew that I always had a weakness for these kinds of things. He knew the true me. He saw beyond what all my other friends saw. He even saw beyond what my parents, or my brother saw. Even you. He knew the true me. You know that Taichi was always a kid at heart, and I envied him for that. I wanted to be him. I settled to be with him. Yep. A bit cliché, I know. Songwriters practically breathe and eat clichés. To aspire for the top, you gotta start from the bottom, right?_

_Anyways, we swung on the swings together, hung upside-down on the jungle-gym together, slid down the slide together, and even peed in the sand… not together. I wasn't ready for that stage yet. Besides, we weren't kids, in a sense. I don't know. I guess it was a really bad joke. Anyways, after an exhausting session of roughhousing, we tumbled onto the sand, only to collapse. It was too comfortable. It was too perfect. As we were laying there, beneath the stars, Taichi, short of breath, pointed out the guitar that I brought. He asked me to play a song for him. At that moment, I gained all the courage I had, and I probably borrowed some from him, and I said 'no.' He looked a little upset, but I knew better. I told him, 'not here.' I had an even better place in mind. If I was going to spill my soul to him, I wanted it to be perfect. So, I took his arm, but I missed. Maybe it was intentional, or maybe it was fate giving me a break, for once. I took his hand, and I took him to a place that I knew was perfect. To this day, I hope he thought so, too._

I found myself sitting at the foot of Hikari's bed, covered only by her blanket, on the verge of tears. She was in her robe, staring out into nothingness, her back facing me. I couldn't believe what she said.

"Are you sure?" I asked her so intently. I asked her in a way that was a smidge from ostracizing, like an informal inquisition. She didn't bother to look at me, and I her. I was still shocked. With my sulking, shameful head down, I awaited the 'just kidding.' It never came.

"Yah… I found out two weeks ago. I couldn't call you. I didn't know how you would react." What a silly consideration, on her part. That was true, though. I wouldn't have known what to do. I had made one of the biggest mistakes in my short, unproductive life. The biggest, to date, but of course, that is debatable. I went off on her. I truly did.

"You're damn right! I wouldn't know how to act! I don't know what to think of it… Why do you have to ruin my life?" I spoke for every other person that was hurt by her, and based on all the clawing she did getting her way up the social pyramid, it was more than safe to assume that there were many.

"I don't know what to do… Should I get rid of it?"

"No. Just… don't."

I rushed into my clothes and I stormed off. I just left her. I didn't want anything to do with her, or my unborn child. That's right. She was pregnant. Yah, she could have gotten rid of it, but that wasn't the point. I ruined my life. She wanted a feeling of commitment that I couldn't promise. I thought I love her, but the truth was I didn't know what love was. Not at all. Love, to me, was something I never felt. I thought I did, but I never did. I couldn't have said it to anyone, and actually meant it. I rather would have died, than lie once again.

I 'loved' her too much to ever do such a thing.

We ran home as fast as we could, even though I wanted this moment to last forever. At that moment, we were so carefree. We were running, chasing dreams that seemed at our reach. There was hope for us, and all we had to do was run, and catch it, and hold it tight. But we kept running. The chase is what fueled our hope. That was more valuable than anything. We made it up the stairs to the apartment. My mom was there, stirring something in the pot, needlessly boiling it into oblivion. Our dad was there, just sitting, watching what bejeweled crap primetime had to offer. Takeru was on the floor, staring along with him. Taichi and I went to the balcony, and that's where I spilled my heart.

_Sure, we kissed once. Actually, he kissed me. And I didn't do anything. I couldn't. My real father came in and nearly killed me. I really wanted to, but I didn't know how. I wanted it to be perfect. I knew he loved me, at the time. I still know. It's just that I wanted to show him that I really loved him, and that the kiss that he gave me meant the whole world to me, and then some. I wanted to play a song I wrote for him._

_And I did. I played the song I wrote for him at the place that inspired me to write it. I don't know, but there was just something about it. And after I finished, I kissed him. Finally. I did the right thing. My heart was content._

I grabbed my bag, and I hurriedly made my way out of her life. I rushed by a dreaming Taichi, who was still on the couch. I let myself out. I ran down the stairs, and the whole world passed by. We didn't acknowledge each other. I'm glad it was like that. The buzzing neon and halogen zoomed by like streaks of euphoria. I was up on my feet. For the first time, I was sure of my emotions. I didn't love Hikari. A small baby step, but to me, that said a lot.

While flying through, I ran into a hooded passerby. All our stuff fell to the ground, scrambled amongst leaf litter and general urban clutter. I made my apologies, only for him to reveal himself: Takeshi Kobayashi. He looked at me, and I looked at him. It was too awkward, as well as late, to just leave and pretend nothing happened. Since he forcefully took a major chunk of my soul, he knew what I was feeling. He gave me a disgusted grunt, only to say something profound.

"You do look more like Yamato every day."

I said nothing. He was in a heavy corduroy jacket and gray slacks. Nothing significant about that, but he had the same face of disgust and malice that he had when I last saw him. Of all nights, I had to run into him on that night. I thought back, but I remembered nothing.

"Hmph… You're still taking advantage of what you have around you."

I didn't care to look at him, but my heart wanted to know. I kept running away, looking shocked, as if my world was shattering. Shaking. Collapsing on itself. All I could do was watch. Watch, and run. I was running away from responsibilities, emotions, and even myself. I had to run. I had to run to a place where time had a faint grasp on my heart. I gotta make a getaway, but maybe, I'll never find that place. I made it home, and no one was home, of course. Mom was out, not caring. Yamato was out of my life. He chose to leave. He did it on purpose. Hikari hated me. Daisuke never cared for me.

I'm still running. I'm still thinking. I'm still waiting for an answer. I'm still waiting for the sun to rise. I'm still waiting for the moon to smile upon me. I sat in Yamato's room, and I stared at his guitar and the picture of him and Taichi at the park, with ice cream slathered on their faces. I spiraled into darkness, knowing that Taichi will never hear that song again. It was just a feeling.

True. I probably never cared for anyone, really. Maybe, they cared for me. And all I did was take and take. Hikari loved me. Daisuke loved me. Yamato loved me. Father loved me. Mother loved me. And I didn't love them. Any of them. I never did. I hated them. I hated them with a passion from deep within. It wasn't the kind of hate that is said because of an off day, or as lip service to give in to any sort of peer pressure. I truly hated them. How unrequited. It wasn't fair to them at all. Takeshi was right this whole time. I never did care. I just kept taking advantage of the love they had for me. All I did was worry if I ever was loved. All I did was wait to find out what love was, even though it was always there. Nothing was ever wrong. I was the only one who was wrong. Me. It was all me. I hated myself, more than anyone.

And that's when I found it, amongst my shit, in all its radiating glory. Fate has given me a fork in the road of life. An utterance in the bowels of a temperamental rhapsody. Alone. I am alone. But I can be alone, no longer. It was all up to me. All I have to do is decide. There it was, just waiting for me to use it. A gun. I'm done waiting. Love was always there. But, I know that I never loved anyone. Maybe it's not late.

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**My writings are getting longer and longer. I really didn't like the ending. It's kinda unclear, which is what i was aiming for. One doesn't think clearly in a state of raw emotion, ne? But i think this is a little too unclear. Oh well, that will be up to you guys, my loyal readers, to decide! Thanks for sticking with me! I already started the last chapter, so it's only a horizon or two away, k? Well, 5 or 6. Before Friday Night, for sure.**


	6. Takeru

**Well... i'm sorry. it took too long. too much has happened. let's just say i have more time to write now. anyways, the much-awaited final chapter. it has been a great journey, and i thank everyone for reading the story. now i can move on. let me know if you liked the ending. i don't own digimon. the closest thing to digimon i own is a charmander pillow. on with the story.**

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_**To Wait, Perchance to Know.**_

_Takeru._

I finally know. I've waited long enough. In this long, arduous journey, I've learned that dreams are, in all actuality, fleeting shards of reality, inundated with modest truths and vicious trials, all for the glory of a laugh. Yes. A fuckin' laugh. And no, I'm not laughing. I'm content with a slight chuckle, but I'm not going to burst into a perpetual cackle. I shall not "cack" to any extent of the imagination. God's sick, twisted little joke isn't that funny. But you have to admit; making a complete ass of myself this whole time was no rain on my parade. Not at all. But the most important part is that even though it took me quite a while, I finally know.

Yamato's room was my haven. My sanctuary, even. It always had been, even though he never even set foot in it. My mom's twisted sense of motherly intuition told her that the only fragile link she had with her fallen angel was his meager possessions. His guitar was sitting on a chair that readily faced his bed, along with a picture of him and Taichi, their face plastered with vanilla and rocky road, respectively, on the nightstand. His room was almost like a shrine, a frame frozen in time. His green-plaid bedspread and baseball-patterned wallpaper strongly opted the sense of innocent adolescence, which was only a fantasy in my mom's imagination. Yamato was born an adult. He was born, knowing how to channel angst before knowing how to walk. Call it a curse, but I think of it as a gift. Sadly, Yamato was a kid at heart. By the by, his favorite sport was baseball, but he never had the chance to play. He always wanted to.

Yamato's room symbolized the hopes and dreams my mom had for him, and him alone. Since they didn't materialize, seeing that Yamato was nowhere to be found living up to such high expectations, my mother stopped dreaming when it came to me. Her only wish was for me to not end up like Yamato. I was bounded in mediocrity, so that I wouldn't fall to the pressures of the extreme. I just like to think of it as a place where dreams can only be chased. Here, dreams are at the midst of the fingertips. And, it is the chase that fueled our hopes and dreams. At least, someone very wise said that once.

I'm tired of the mediocre. I'm tired of the dreaming. I'm tired to the chasing. I'm tired of the waiting. Maybe I'll become a doctor, or an engineer. You know, something my mom would be really proud of. I want to make her happy again, and if I have to do it with a fake smile taped onto my face, so be it. I was going to do it. I was going to make everyone happy. I was going to love Hikari. I was going to love Daisuke. I was going to love my dad. I was going to love my mom. I was.

I stopped running forward. I stopped running away. With a newfound heart, I got up from the darkness that shrouded Yamato's room. I rose from the depths of an inescapable fate. I conquered my self-damnation. I wasn't going to let some minor revelation ruin my life. Never.

I left Yamato's room with a rejuvenated appreciation for life, and the precious gifts that came with it. I wanted to shout it out to the whole world, but much of Tokyo would suffice. But before I began my joyful spree, I thought about the first person that I should tell. Finally, I was going to confront him.

On my way to Daisuke's, I walked through the alleys and the byways, smiling like I never did before. I felt like I was capable of loving. I was capable of emoting. In a matter of no time, I was standing at the foot of his apartment building, which eclipsed the glory of the encrusted moon and the shining points of light. And I noticed him there, standing out in the balcony, with a cell phone in one hand, and a takeout menu in the other. It was from our restaurant. The chow fun was divine, but not as scrumptious as the orange chicken or even the moo goo gai pan, Daisuke's personal favorite. I didn't care if it made him break out into a frenzy of pimples. If it made him happy, then I would feed him that everyday. Just because it was his favorite... Don't ask how I knew that. Won't say that I've fallen in love. Don't say I've fallen in love. Don't.

Before I could lay a single step onto the stairway that led to heaven, he was there, holding out his hand and grinning gently, signaling me to follow him, and so I did. I trailed him quite a ways, so that I didn't seem stalker-like, but that only provoked him to stop and grab my arm, pulling me along the rest of the way to his place. I was tugged through the front door, garmented with the Motomiya nameplate hanging above, along with a wittier plate asking visitors to neatly set their shoes aside. It was quite witty, but I can't recall it amongst the recesses of my fading memories. Yup, my fading memories.

We got to his room, which had its own exclusive private balcony, bathed in the light of the midnight sun, with all its austereness, filtered with the harmony of resilient stars. We went there, and I stood there for a moment, and he stood there for a moment even longer than mine. I disrespected his courtesy and etiquette by sitting on the lone stool provided, but he didn't think anything of it. He just became transfixed, returning to the gaze that he held earlier, longing once again. He broke the silence, yet kept his soft smile.

"What took you so long?" He asked in such a way in that the question was too broad, and that any answer that happened to squirm out of my unforgiving mouth would not serve any justice. None, whatsoever. He awaited an answer, never easing his eyes towards mine, which were fixed to the ground, in shame.

"I don't know… I really don't know…" I didn't. I really didn't. He began to let out a chuckle of amusement.

"Hmm… You haven't learned, have you? Well, I'll show you…" He ushered me to face against the moon, embattled with a stunningly beautiful darkness.

An ever-growing anxiety grew within. I didn't know if he was going to kill me right then and there. It would have been a terrible place, if he wanted the utmost discreetness, but yet an elegant splatter of minute glass shards and crimson mist against a concrete canvas. A sight to see for passersby, nonetheless. I assumed that he would have pushed me off the balcony's ledge. I thought he had neither the agility, nor the sheer dexterity to point a gun at my darling face. One thing's for sure, though. He did have the nerves. He did.

"Takeru… What's the matter?"

I began to sweat proverbial bullets. Those very bullets that rattled the contours of my back. It was torture. It was a very simple question, and an awkward response that I would have not wanted any other way. Somewhat like child's play.

"What's the _matter_? No one ever asked me that before…"

I began to cry. The thought of it alone just brought tears to my eyes. Someone actually cared for me. My anguish was lost amongst all the sobbing and whaling. I could have been mistaken for any widow that lost it at the heat of the moment.

"Dai… No one… No one… No one ever… Asked me that… Not Hikari… Not Yamato… Not my mom… My dad… No one… No one, except you… Dai…"

A long pause, or an act of feigning interest followed.

"I had no idea… I thought you had it all… I thought… you had it made."

That followed an even longer pause, and an even larger act of feigning interest. Something inside me went off. It was like rage and resentment, with a little touch of regret.

"What? Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you… I've been through fuckin' hell! I've been through more shit than you'd ever know, so fuck off! Fuck off! Fuck off… It's you that has it all!"

Again, my message got lost in translation. I never even thought about that. I guess I was jealous this whole time. I was envious of all the glory. It was the glory that attracted me to him. But, I'm not sure. I didn't care. He knew, and there was no way to go back on my words. My shell broke at that moment. Now I was making excuses. I didn't want to seem like the attention whore. I wanted the humility. It was this humility, and the idea of servitude that I had about myself, which kept my whole character intact. It was the idea of having so many problems, which kept my identity in check. It's discerning to know that waiting for 1000 years, or having the weight of the world on your shoulders, could mean that people have waited longer, or something heavier tug at their heart. I wanted to be the hero.

"Maybe… Who knows?"

"What?" I didn't get it at all. What gave him the audacity to joke at a time like that? If anything, he should be the one who had no clue of the entire situation. Not me.

"I'm sorry if it sounded frank, or irrational at best." How profound, and big 'ups' to his word… usage.

"You better damn well believe it did…"

"What I'm trying to say is that we regard people in different ways… we shine them in different lights… maybe, to disguise their true nature."

"Oh…"

"Takeru… I always thought you had it all… You had a brother that would look out for you… A mother that cares for you… A dad that you could talk to, or at least talk about… And you have a girl that can heed your every call… You had it all… I guess that's why I did what I did… Yah, I saved you… Back then, you had it all, and you couldn't even defend yourself..."

"That was you?" I played stupid. Or, in this case, stupider than I was, since this was all a giant revelation to me.

"Yah… And then I saw you again, I was so jealous of you, because life was good for you, and I had too much shit to deal with. So, I double-teamed with Takeshi and attacked you…" I would have said, 'that was you' again, but I thought it would have been of bad taste.

"Hmm."

"And then I finally got to see you again… and I wanted to make it up to you… _rival_."

"Rival?" Rival, indeed. How about that… I had a rival all this time. A rival, and a friend. Always competing for each other's affection. Hmm. A rival.

"Yah. I'm sorry about everything Takeru. I'm sorry." This was going all too well. Right then and there, I wanted to tell him how much I felt about him. How much I loved him so. I did. I really did. It was really nice to know that during all these years, while I was thinking about him, he was thinking about me too. I wanted to tell him, and kiss him.

"No… I'm sorry I yelled at you… I'm sorry I misunderstood you all this time… I'm sorry…" He began to chuckle again, but this time, there was nothing funny or sinister about it.

"I guess we we're both sorry…" It was more playful than anything.

We were chuckling together, facing each other close. So close, I felt his essence. We began to get closer, letting no light pass between our shadow body counterparts. And at that moment, we just stood there. But I wanted to kiss him. I wanted him to know.

"Kiss me, pizza-face," I said, smiling. He didn't show a frown. He just smiled warmly, like he always did, and made me warm inside. Then, he kissed me. And my tears were gone. We kissed like it was forever. And that's how I ended that long night, my long journey. It led me to his arms, and in the comfort of his room, we saw the sun rise from the promising east. And we had a long life together after that. Hikari moved on, my mother loved me; my dad accepted me and my brother and I became the best of friends. That's how my life turned out…

At least, I always wished that that was the way things turned out, but alas, they didn't. I died that night. No, Daisuke didn't push me out of a 5-story balcony. I never made it to Daisuke's. I never made it out of Yamato's room. They say it was pure suicide, but there was no pleasure in it. My autopsy was a drag. I didn't know how they did it, but they diagnosed me with some bipolar disorder, postmortem. That amazed me. They said that I had a crippling addiction to sex. I was in a state of constant hypersexual fervor. They said I was in a constant fit of anger, and that I had some oral fixation, noted by my unrelenting, strained eyebrow muscles, and my audaciously thick lips patterned with the clench-marks of my own teeth, respectively. That was in no way, true, to any extent of a feeble imagination. Just because you give a gun fellatio, then in the heat of excitement, it goes off in your mouth, doesn't mean you have an oral fixation. It's quite the opposite. They said that if I popped in a few meds, I would have still been alive today. But I haven't felt more alive at this very moment. Finally.

I was suspended in a state of limbo, stuck amongst the echelons of heaven's justice. My body couldn't move, but I felt all that was going on. I felt the spider that repelled itself from the ceiling of the coroner's office, the awkward look on the coroner's face when we exchanged lifeless glances, and the spider leaving me after relieving itself on my right thigh. Don't ask. Even after death, I still have my jib.

I even felt the sincerity and the pain that was in my mother's heart when they pulled the sheet off my face. Yah, my eyes were technically closed, but my heart was more open than ever. If my eyes had life, I would have cried at that moment. She visited me after work. She looked at me, fronting a face of perplexed angst. But, there were no words of anger towards the loving wrath of some higher creator, or any staged, outlandish display of emotion. Simple and sweet, she was. The way I wished to have remembered her for.

"Takeru… I'm sorry…" A gentle sigh escaped from deep within a heart that harbored genuine feelings of regret. Only regret. "My darling… If only I can see you smile again…" She was the only one that visited me before the big day.

My funeral was on a Tuesday, which, if you come to think about it, isn't the greatest day to have a funeral. It's not really convenient in that you can't take the rest of the week off, or go to work the day before. It can easily be assumed that there will always be an awkward instance before or after, or even during a funeral on a Tuesday. My father and my mother agreed that I would be buried, instead of burnt. I guess I would have burdened the sky with my polluting remains. Any who, I was dressed in my Sunday best, or in this case, my Tuesday's finest. Black suit, black tie, black shoes. All of them, really nice. All of them, kind of itchy. Michiko, the funeral home's makeup artist, did wonders on my face, giving me really light rouge while retaining my naturally pale skin. I didn't look that dead. The formaldehyde didn't bother me that much.

No eulogy was said, and no word was spoken on my behalf. I think I liked it that way. The last thing I need before I was to be ushered into a 6-foot-deep trench was a lecture, or to be marked as some cautionary tale. I rather would sacrifice a celebration of my life to not have a scorning of my death. But everyone had their special moment with me. I felt so special, in a way. My world was shaken that day. Shaken more so than the day I died.

Taichi came up to me first, in a mess. He leaned into my coffin and began to sob, freeflowingly onto my lapel. After placing an eggshell colored carnation by my side, he began to speak, almost like pleading.

"Takeru… I tried to call Yamato this morning, before your funeral… But, they told me… they… told… me… he killed himself… He died, Takeru… He died…" He was beginning to hyperventilate and become emotionally rowdy, and the room began to grow louder with the moans and cries of my audience. After controlling himself somehow, he continued, "The last time… The last time I talked to him, I told him that you were gone… He began to cry… He began to scream in disbelief… He said that he lost the greatest thing that ever happened to him… That was you, Takeru… That was you… He really loved you, even if you didn't think so… I wish you knew that before pulling that trigger… Takeru… Yama…" He let out a long sigh, followed by a stream of silent tears. "I just wanted to say thank you, Takeru. Thank you for the guitar, and the picture… I'm going to treasure it… forever. I may never hear that song again… But the memory of it will last forever…" And then he left. I guess it got to him somehow. The guitar was found next to my pool of blood. The two never actually met. And the picture had to be pried out of my dead fingers. They said I was clinching on to it.

Takeshi was next. I wasn't that surprised to see him there. I'm surprised he didn't jump for joy, either. He just stood there, and looked at me. We stared off for what seemed like hours, with no sense of remorse in his heart. All I sensed was emptiness.

"It was me. I was always there, but you never noticed. You never cared to look around you… Yamato was like a brother to me, since my dad liked him. He even treated me like a brother. He talked to me. But you. You." After a moment of tense silence, he ranted on, and poured his heart into my lifeless body, my cringing and regretful soul. "My dad was there to pick up the pieces after your dad left… And I guess he forgot me in the process. I don't know why I hated you. I should've hated him. I couldn't have hated your mom. She loved my dad too much. But you. You didn't notice at all… My father couldn't handle you. He couldn't handle the pain that you radiated. He gave up on me early in the game, but he happened to fight for you 'til the end. He really loved you, and you blew it." And then he left.

Then there was Hikari. She came up with Daisuke, holding a friend who was deeply mourning, or putting on an elaborate show. I couldn't tell. Well, I could. I really thought she loved me. I really did, but she didn't. "I wasn't really pregnant. I just wanted to test your love for me. I just wanted you to be there. I just wanted you to be the same guy I fell in love with. I just wanted you to be the same guy that cared for me. All I wanted was your support. All I wanted was your love…" She paused, just to look at me, but her cocoa pupils were clouded with irrational thoughts of self-loathing and narcissism. "I guess it was too much for you… But you left me… You didn't even think about anyone else… It was always about you, huh?" She gently tucked my hair away from my face, and kissed my forehead. A soft impression, that left a major impact.

She went back to him, and he hugged her. He only glanced at me with a stern countenance, and went back to his seat, with Hikari under his shoulder. He said nothing to me. He didn't even shed a tear.

My mother came up, and she was guiding a little girl up to me, by the shoulders. Her pale skin balanced her midnight attire. She was the perfect balance of an eerie mystery and an embraceable memory. It was the first time I ever met Sakura face to face, and yet I was slacking in my introductions. How ungentlemanly-like. With my mother giving some distance, Sakura, with her eyes a deep blue, began to stare at me, as if I were some familiar face. Her articulate nature began to manifest itself with her soft words.

"I know we haven't met… But my name is Sakura. I just wanted to say thank you. You gave me real courage. It's a shame that we couldn't have been close, but I always felt like you were always watching over me. Father would only describe you, like a legend. I looked up to you. Like a guardian angel, almost…"

She began to cry.

"Please…watch over me? Now… that you are an… angel."

Me… an angel… hmm…

"If only you listened to your own advice… brother," she whispered under her breath. I wish I did. 'Please be strong,' I scribbled in her diary that day. If I didn't listen to it, I would have still been of flesh and blood, but dead. I would have been dead without the strength from within.

My mother, stricken by a torrent of grief, took her seat, never letting go of Sakura.

The crying was subdued, and everyone proceeded outside to the hole in the ground that they were going to toss me into. The pallbearers did their job, dragging me to final spot, many of them just faceless uncles and cousins that could have cared more for me. There was potential, and that was my only regret. The descent was rocky, with the corner that housed my left foot was being lowered about a meter slower than the rest of my lifeless matter. There were shouts, followed by screams, followed by sighs of relief, knowing that I made it in. First, the flowers began to shower my casket, blanketing myself with the prayers and thoughts of friends, family, and complete strangers. It was a nice feeling, come to think about it. Daisuke was at my feet, just staring at me directly in the eyes. Yes, my casket was closed, but he was staring, and I saw through it. Or so I thought.

Many of these aunties with unnaturally hued tresses were throwing many of the flowers from wreaths other than the one they donated to my behalf, hoping to take them home in mint condition. Daisuke threw a single red rose, still standing at the foot of my coffin, from meters above. He was dressed well, as if he were trying to impress me. It was just a simple black suit and black tie over a white shirt. It was so simple, but it really suited him well. He didn't speak a single word to me then. Not even in his heart. I couldn't tell what, if anything, he was feeling.

And that was it. That's where I am now. Time has not been an entity to me. Days, years, minutes, seconds… they're all the same to me. All I have are the memories to entertain me. Of course, since a spirit such as myself has no real restriction, I can wander around, but I choose not to. All I do is sit on my little spot on the hill, under my oak tree, and reminisce. Of course, I get all the latest gossip from visitors. Much has happened. My father went to prison on charges of possessing pedophilia. He gets a lot of flack from his prisonmates for being the sick bastard that he was. I think it was the fact that he beat his kids was what killed him.

My mother became a lot stronger. After my father left them, Sakura's mother became good buddies. They formed a support group that became a leading advocate in passing harsher laws against child abusers and pedophiles. No, there was no personal vendetta. They just grew tired of such injustices. Sakura's mother died in a car accident, and my mother took Sakura as her own. I hear from my mother that Sakura's in the midst of writing her third novel. I guess I made a big difference to her, since she always dedicates every book to me. Thank you, Sakura. By the way, ladies, she's single. Yah. She came out to me first. Don't I feel special?

Taichi visits every week, cleaning my and my brother's gravesite. Yup. We're right next to each other, but it's only his body. Lucky bastard got into heaven. He must have been a better person than I thought. Although he can never say it back, it's nice to know that I have my brother by my side for eternity, and every chance I get, I tell him that I love him. Hmm… I wonder what he's up to? Anyways, when Taichi visits, he only says hello to me. He only says goodbye to me. There's no reason to greet Yamato. I guess he's always with him. Why bother?

Takeshi and my step dad, his father, visited a few times. They're on good terms now, and because of it, Takeshi always comes to me with a feeling of true repentance. If only he could know that I forgave him a long time before.

Who would have thought? Hikari and Daisuke got married, and had an ass-load of kids. I think they're expecting lucky number-seven in a few months. Of course, I hear that Hikari's good, from Daisuke. He visits me once and a while. I look forward to seeing him the most. He talks to me as if we were in some café, discussing how our lives have gone in different directions. I'm just listening intently, sipping my mocha latte, with a warm feeling in my heart. I hear his smiles, and I see his laughter, and I feel warm again. It's great, knowing that his kids inherited that same charming spirit, always clearing the sky on such cloudy days. His third boy was born on my birthday, and they named him Takeru. A lovely boy. Much better looking than me. Shy, refined, yet well-spoken. I wonder where he got that from. Hmm. And Daisuke always ended our meetings with an 'I love you.' If only I can tell him in person. I just only hope that he knew.

To wait, to know, perchance to dream? A shout, a whimper, a fullblown scream? I don't really know what it means, but I have all the time in the world to figure it out.

* * *

**Once again, thank you, from the heart of my bottom. i'm going to read for a while before i start another story. happy writing!**

**ek**


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